


Sleepwalker

by ellieoh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Still sort of canon, Voldemort Weirdness, War, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellieoh/pseuds/ellieoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For better or for worse, Ginny has always done what she thought was right. Too bad that fake "Weasley Curse" from childhood seemed to have a way of catching up with her. Ron always did say she had the worst luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Weird War fic that I couldn't get out of my head. I don't even know, guys. Totally D/G, definitely AU, that's about all I've got.

They sat huddled in the room of requirement, tired, broken, exhausted. Her friends sat huddled around her with solemn eyes and tight lipped grins, she could tell that nothing would ever be the same, even after the war. They all had lost so much, invested everything without a promise of their old world returning. They were the children of war, dark-fighters; they would do whatever necessary to survive, to live.

Currently though, living didn't really seem all that possible.

It had been months of agony, of pain. Darkness and torture surrounded the school, slowly they had started holing themselves up in the Room of Requirement, the only safe haven left inside of Hogwarts. Neville had stepped up, took over the role that had previously belonged to Harry. He was their strength, their survival. He was doing a fine job, the best he could; she knew that he was tired though, they all were.

Stupid Harry. Going off with her stupid brother and Hermione on top secret missions, leaving them here alone to suffer. 

She hated them. Sometimes, she really did.

She stood and walked over to where Neville was pacing, trying to figure out their next move. She placed a hand on his broad shoulder, stirring him from his concentration. “Find anything yet?”

He shook his head, “No.”

They were trying to find a way to send a message to the outside, the school was overrun by Death Eaters. McGonagall was pushed aside by Snape and the Carrows, the school was a little less than Azkaban at this point. They needed help, they couldn't fight them alone, they had been trying to figure out a way to get word to someone from the Order for help. They had asked Aberforth, but he had done so much for them already, she wasn't surprised when he said no to their request. She wasn't mad at him for it either.

“We'll find a way.”

Neville nodded at her, “I know, Gin. It's just frustrating.”

He looked so worn, so much older than his seventeen years, and much less jovial than his younger self use to be. She missed that Neville, missed the cute little freckle face who always seemed to be in the wrong place, wrong time. He was a warrior now, a man. Darkness changes people, she knew that better than anyone.

She didn't miss the circles under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek that had still yet to fade. They needed to get out of here, there was only so much more that Neville could take. “I'm going to figure out a way. I promise.”

She turned from him, looking at the growing number of students occupying the room, they were all tired, dirty, broken. They hadn't seen some of their friends and family since the beginning of the year, they had no idea who was dead or alive. She was done with this. Done.

She knew that Bill was at Shell Cottage with Fleur, Charlie was most likely still in Romania, Fred and George were manning the airwaves from some unknown location, Percy was with her parents – but, she wasn't exactly sure where they were either. And Ron was with Harry, off galavanting somewhere, not bothering with everyone else in their life that were suffering. 

She was bitter, that much was evident.

They should've taken her with them, she could've helped them, instead they left her here to rot.

She strutted over to where her things were kept, rifling through them. Colin appeared next to her, his blond curls matted and pushed aside, his wide blue eyes searching her own. “Is he okay?”

She stopped looking through her things and turned to Colin, “No.”

Colin just nodded, he was looking around the room at all of the different houses intermingling as they sat. And waited. For what, well, none of them quite knew. “Are you okay?”

She looked up from where she had been searching through her belongings, no one had asked her that in a very long time. Was she okay? 

“I don't know.”

Colin simply just brought his camera up and snapped a picture of Ginny in that moment, she gave him a confused look and he simply replied, “For the record.”

He had been taking pictures of everything that was happening at the school, he had stated that people needed to know what went on here. Even Colin knew that there was a war brewing outside these walls.

“Colin,” She looked into his blue gaze. “Things will get better.”

He just smiled at her, his hand coming to rub her shoulder fondly, before he stood to leave. She watched as he went, he joined his little brother Dennis in a game of exploding snap, they looked happy. As happy as they could be anyway.

It just reaffirmed what she had to do.

What she needed to do.

She continued to shove things into her bag, anything that she absolutely needed and nothing else. This was right, this was the right choice, the smart decision. She knew that Neville wouldn't take it lightly, he would fight her with everything he had left to get her to stay, but, her place was no longer here. Not anymore.

She stood as she closed the last snap on her satchel, bringing it up around her shoulders. It would be easier to leave without him knowing, in the dead of the night, without a word. But, she couldn't do that. Not to him, not after what they'd been through. She had to tell him.

He was seated at a desk in the corner by the door that lead to Aberforth's, bent over scraps of parchment that Dumbledore's brother had managed to sneak them in the earlier months of their new regime. He was trying to formulate yet another plan, another play that was bound to work eventually. He had become so much like Harry that it was actually startling to witness sometimes. 

“Neville.” She murmured his name quietly in the soft voice she often found herself using with him. He looked up at her with those tired eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

He looked worried, but not for the reasons he should be. “What's wrong, Gin?” He asked with furrowed brows.

She hated doing this to him, especially after all they'd been through together, leaving the comfort he offered wouldn't be easy. She hoped they all made it through alive, she honestly couldn't say what she would do if she had to witness a world without Neville Longbottom's impenetrable smile or Colin Creevy's piercing laugh.

He seemed to be able to read the look in her eyes, noted the bag slung over her shoulders. He began shaking his head, she stopped him. “Neville. We have to do something. We can't just keep sitting here planning and hope for the best.”

“Exactly, Gin.” He began, standing from his spot at the desk. The anger in his eyes and tone were noticeable, it seemed like she was seeing him angry more and more these days. “We have to do something, not you. You're going on a suicide mission, to – what? Prove to Harry and your brother that you're just as crazy as them?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and hated that he was one of the few people that seemed to be able to read her so well. “That has nothing to do with it, Neville. We're stuck in here, actually stuck. And they let us imprison ourselves in here because they know that if we come out, we're dead.” 

She knew she looked crazy right now, yelling at the stoic looking Neville, waving about her arms, but she couldn't bring herself to actually care. Did she even care about anything anymore? He only crossed his arms as she proceeded.

“How many Crucios have you taken?” She asked. “How many unbearable things have you witnessed? These kids,” She gestured behind them towards the ever-growing number of students under their care. “They're not like us. They don't have what we have. They don't have the training or the knowledge, they certainly don't have the Order backing them.”

“Neither do we, Ginny!” He yelled. “I know you like to think we do, but we don't. We haven't heard from any of them in weeks. Fred and George have no idea, who knows where the rest of them are, because I don't! We can't rely on them to help us right now, or else they already would have.”

“That's not true!” Ginny cried, unable to keep herself from stomping her foot like she had as a child when she hadn't gotten her way. “We just need to get to the twins, they'll know how to contact the others!” She said desperately. “The Order doesn't know what's really happening here.”

Neville sighed and ran a hand over his tired face, he didn't want to fight with Ginny, she knew that, but she couldn't just stop herself. Deep down he had to know she was right, he had to. But, he seemed unable to budge from his stance on not wanting her to go. 

They had talked about this once before, back when things weren't as bad but still just as terrible. They might've had a better shot earlier in the year, but, they had wasted it because Neville hadn't wanted to loose any of them. He had been playing close to the chest, but he couldn't be the hero all the time. She had opted to go back then, Colin too, but Neville had decided against it, claiming it too risky.

It was even riskier this time, but Ginny knew it was the only way. If they didn't get word out to the Order, to her family, hell even Harry and Ron would do, then they would die. It was as simple as that. Deep down, Neville had to know that.

“Ginny.” His voice was drained, like he barely had any fight left in him. Didn't he see that was exactly why she was doing this? “I need you here.”

She sighed, looking up at the boy who had taken her to the Yule Ball, to the man that had promised to protect them at all costs, to the friend she was trying to say goodbye to. “No, you don't.” She looked around at the mass of students around them. “They don't need me, they need you. Colin's just as good at strategy, you want me to stay because you're scared. We can't afford to be scared, not anymore.”

Neville slumped back into his chair, looking up at her and sighing. “I don't want you to go.” He admitted.

“I know.” She uttered quietly.

“This isn't going to work out like you've planned.” He said from experience.

Ginny nodded, “I know.” She ran a hand through her hair. “You're probably right. But, we have to try. I have to try.”

Neville chewed on the inside of his lip, looking around the large room and breathing out heavily through his nose. “There's nothing I could say to get you to stay?”

She smirked ever so lightly as she glanced down at him. “Short of professing your undying love to me? No.”

He looked up at her with heavy emotions swirling in his light eyes, she realized then that he was considering it. “Just... be careful, okay?”

“Always.”

“Send word as soon as you can. I need to know you're alright.”

She found herself embracing the taller boy tightly, it was the last little comfort she'd offer herself before leaving this place. She would find a way, for him, for her, for all of them. They would make it out of this war alive, and it wouldn't be because of Harry, it would be because of all they had sacrificed. 

“I will. I promise.” She pulled away from him, trying not to let the heaviness in his gaze effect her. “Tell Colin I love him. Dennis, too.” She knew they were on the other side of the room, but, if she got into goodbyes with Colin, she'd really never leave. 

And this was something she had to do.

Neville said nothing as he watched her turn and open the door, sneaking through the passage that would lead her to the other Dumbledore. The passage door swung closed behind her and she was left in the silent darkness of the secret tunnel. She felt her hands shaking, her heart beating oddly fast in her chest. There would be no going back after this, no turning around, no waiting. This was it.

She took a step forward.

The another.

The walk to the Hog's Head wasn't long and Ginny found her hands still shaking, her heart still racing, but she was determined and she continued on without looking back. She had no idea if Aberforth would even be at the bar, if others would be sitting around, casually drinking. They hadn't been to Hogsmeade at all this school year, even before things became as bad as they were now. Were the shops even still open? Were Death Eaters patrolling the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of Harry Potter and Co?

She scoffed, as if they'd be stupid enough to stroll down Hogsmeade looking for a pint. The Trio would never be that daft, in fact, the Death Eaters were more daft for thinking it. 

She had no idea where her brother or his friends were, but she knew they weren't stupid enough to get caught. They might, eventually, but not this early in the game. Hermione was the cleverest witch of their generation, Ron one of the bravest, and Harry... 

Well, Harry was destined for this. None of them would go down without a fight.

And neither would she.

She approached the door quietly, listening intently to hear for signs of life on the other side. She heard nothing. Not even crotchety old Aberforth moving around. She waited a few minutes before casting a silencing spell on the door, then gently pushing it forward. She stuck her head out from behind the portrait, looking down and around the sitting room, listening for any sounds in the otherwise dimly lit room. When she heard nothing, she stealthily dropped down from the tunnel and onto the ground in front of the fireplace.

Still, she heard nothing. Looking over her shoulder as she closed the portrait door, she listened for any sign of life, waited to hear Aberforth's quiet grumbles or bar patrons clinking their glasses. But, nothing came.

Once the tunnel was secured, she moved out of the sitting room and into the apartment. Everything looked as it was the last she'd been here a few months ago before things had gotten especially bad. She'd have to leave a note for Aberforth to sneak them more food, last she checked they had been running a little low for her liking. 

Ginny moved into the meager kitchen looking around for the spare parchment that she'd seen the older man keep about, finding it beside the breadbox. She scribbled a small note for him, thanking him and listing the supplies they were running low on. Some he'd be able to get easily, others she knew he had, and some were a bit harder to find but he'd been able to acquire them at some point and he might again. 

She heard movement coming from the bar, the door slamming open and voices ringing out. Her heart started pounding with adrenaline, her breathing harsh. She quickly stuffed the parchment into the breadbox, closing it as softly as she could before sneaking closer to the sound of the noise. Peering down the stairs, she saw them.

“Pour us a drink, old man.”

Two Death Eaters sat casually at the bar, Aberforth stood behind it looking both unsure and yet calm as he gazed at the two masked figures across from him. One had his wand lazily pointed in Aberforth's direction, the other tapped his fingers swiftly against the worn surface of the bar top. 

“I said, pour us a drink.”

Aberforth's blue eyes looked between them before turning just slightly to reach for two glasses behind him, subtly showing the Death Eaters his hands at all times. It seemed like this wasn't the first time Aberforth had been held at wandpoint. 

“What'll it be.”

The one with the wand seemed to think it over a moment before answering, “Ah, just make it a firewhisky.”

Aberforth looked over to the other one, he studied the bar behind him before conjuring a bottle and setting it on the bar top in front of them. Aberforth poured their drinks silently and stood back as they took their shots. The two refilled their glasses a few times, laughing about something in a lower tone that she was unable to hear.

Her gaze shot to Aberforth, looking him over as he calmly surveyed the two before him, waiting for them to drink their fill and be done. He looked exhausted, but unharmed – she wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. He had been ignoring them lately, not returning their messages, flat out refusing to try and reach out for them. If he wasn't hurt, she almost hated him in that moment.

He seemed to sense her gaze, his blue eyes sweeping around the room casually, as if he were bored and looked around to occupy his thoughts, before landing on her from where she was crouched at the top of the stairs. From his position, he had an okay viewpoint of her and she had a great view of the Death Eaters backs. 

They had no idea she was behind them, not a clue. They must've done a search of the bar and apartment at some point prior to this meeting, keeping an eye on Aberforth's comings and goings, deeming it clear for them to wander in when they felt like it. Maybe that's why he hadn't been answering their messages, he was being tailed by the Dark Lord's minions. 

It would be so easy for her to hex them, to kill them if she wanted to. She had a great shot, not perfect, but, when were there ever? She could take them both down right now, two less in an army of too many. It would be so easy, so perfect. She felt herself inching forward just slightly, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, she could do it. She could hex them unconscious and get away.

She didn't know if there were any others outside, she didn't know if it was clear, she wasn't actually sure of anything. The strategist in her was going crazy with how terrible of an idea this was, she had barely any information to go off of, she could be walking into a trap for all she knew. The darker part of her – that sounded oddly like a young Tom Riddle – told her not to care. 

Did she care?

It would be so easy to just kill them.

She caught the light blue of Aberforth's eyes, so strikingly similar to his older brother's, intently giving her a look that she could only read as – Don't.

He knew what she was thinking, mostly because he was probably thinking the same thing. Don't. She knew it wasn't a good idea, knew that it would probably get the both of them killed, but she was over come with just how much she wanted to. 

She wanted to kill them.

She wanted revenge, justice.

But, that didn't make her any better than them. In fact, it made her more alike them than she was comfortable admitting. 

She must've looked like she was intent on doing something stupid, because Aberforth's intense blue gaze caught her's once more, his eyes just slightly narrowed at her in that disapproving manner that was eerily similar to Dumbledore's. She was just about to put down her wand and scoot back against the wall when she noticed one of the Death Eaters looking at Aberforth a bit strangely. She sucked in a breath and moved back just before she saw his head spin around.

Her breathing was erratic, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Shit. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She wasn't sure if he had seen her or not, but he had most definitely saw the way Aberforth was looking over their shoulders. She wanted to move away from the stairs and hide, but she was too afraid to move and a make noise.

She didn't hear anything, but that wasn't necessarily a good sign. She didn't hear the small talk, the clinking of glasses, nothing. It was the quiet stillness that bothered her more. It was then that she heard it, the creak of the stairs beside her. Fuck, it was now or never. She leaned up a bit and tossed a stunning spell down the stairs followed closely by a stinging hex.

The sounds of a heavy body falling down the stairs and the curses from the other Death Eater made her quickly jump up and fly down the stairs. “Fucking hell!” The one was stunned at the foot of the stairs, the other bent over in pain from the hex to his eyes. 

Well, she was constantly fucking vigilant after all. Take that, Moody.

Ginny jumped over the body on the floor, sending the same stun spell to the other one, who was blindly flinging out curses left and right, shattering glass everywhere. She looked over in enough time to see Aberforth clutching his shoulder, blood pouring from between his fingers. Once the second cloaked figure dropped to the floor she moved quickly over to the younger Dumbledore.

“I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry.” She said quickly.

He just shook his head and sent her those intense looks of his. “No matter, they were bound to find you up there sooner or later. You were just lucky they decided to sweep the place after their drinks.” He let her cast a simple healing spell on his shoulder, seeing as how she had no idea where his wand was. “What are you doing out here, girl? Go back up quickly, before they wake up. I'll deal with 'em.”

She shook her head, eyeing them on the floor. “No. I'm leaving. I have to try and get help, things are just getting worse back there.”

He eyed her like she belonged in St. Mungo's. Maybe she did. “What the fuck is wrong with you, girl? Get your ass back up there before these lot wakes up.”

She just looked at the older man and sighed. He maybe not've always been the most helpful, but he certainly had done more for them than anyone else. His brother would've been proud of him, whether that was something he had wanted or not. “I left a list for you in the breadbox. Please get them whatever you can, we're running low and more and more kids show up every week. Just... send Neville a note that you're alive and not avoiding us.”

With that, she turned and quickly ran out of the Hog's Head Inn before Aberforth had time to protest. She should've asked him if they were patrolling. She should've asked him where some of the safer areas were. She should've asked him a lot of things, but she hadn't.

Ginny quickly made her way to one of the side roads, out of the way and off the made strip of Hogsmeade. If they were patrolling, they'd be everywhere, but she'd have more of a chance somewhere out of the way. She knew if she could just get somewhere more private, she could apparate to the last location of her parents, to Shell Cottage, anywhere but here. 

The Shrieking Shack was a perfect place, but she knew it would be filled with Death Eaters. She stopped running just long enough to think of a place, leaning her back against the wall of building, catching her breath. Maybe if she ran into the woods on the other side of Waag's Bakery they wouldn't be able to hear the crack and if they did it would be too late. She chewed her lip and let her mind wander over the very short list of possibilities she had in this instance, her body was still thrumming with adrenaline, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn't even hear him come up from beside her.

The hand clamped over her throat caused the air to rush from her lungs, the other hand gripping her wrist at an odd angle enough to break it made her unable to hex whoever it was. The porcelain white mask and black cloak hid his anonymity from her, but it didn't matter because she had been caught. She hadn't even made it out of Hogsmeade. 

Neville had been right, this was a suicide mission and she had just lost.

“Hm, pretty, pretty.” He tweaked her wrist, causing her to cry out and drop her wand onto the ground. He brought his now free hand up to trace his fingers across her lips, she held back the shudder that threatened to rack her body. “And what are you doing out at this time of night, pretty?”

She said nothing, just continued to stare up at him. She wasn't in her uniform, she hadn't worn it since the beginning of the year, instead she worn jeans and one of the thinner jumpers she owned. At least he wouldn't know she was from Hogwarts, at least that secret was safe for now. Neville and Colin were safe for now.

“What, not in the mood to talk?” He leaned in closer, the mask disturbing this up front. “That's alright, pretty, I'm not really in the mood to talk either.” His grin was lecherous as much as it was dangerous, she knew that she was in trouble. She knew this wasn't going to end well for her.

As much as she was scared, as much as she desperately wanted to give in and cry, there was a part of her that didn't care. A small, miniscule part of her that had been buried since she was twelve years old, that almost wanted him to kill her.

The thought went as soon as it came, leaving tears in her eyes and an odd thumping in her heart. Had she really just thought that?

The Death Eater pushed a rough thigh between her own, spreading her stance. She waited, she knew better than to fight back all screams and half-ass attempts brought on by adrenaline. She was trained better than that, taught better. If she lived through this all, she'd make one hell of an Auror one day – if the world even needed Auror's after the war.

His grip on her throat hadn't softened, but it was just light enough for her to speak and with his hand no longer occupying her wrist, it would be so easy for her to Accio her wand and hex him. She just had to wait for the right moment, let him think he'd won. She'd been playing the helpless little girl for a long time, it was only now that people were starting to see just how strong she really was.

She let out a little whimper, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes had begun to spill over onto her cheeks. She was a good actress, being the youngest of seven children had it's benefits, but there was a part of her that wasn't play acting. She was scared, this was frightening, she wanted to cry. It just happened to be easier to play the scared little girl when she was actually scared.

The Death Eater smirked, getting off at the sight of her tears, the sounds of her scared little whimpers. She wanted to lull him into that false sense of security, make him think her powerless, that he'd won. Then she'd go in for the kill.

“Please.” She begged a little, her voice coming out hoarse from his grip on her throat. 

His hand gripped tighter before loosening much more than it had been prior, he smirked, bringing his masked face closer to her chest, smelling her exposed skin. “Say it again, little girl. Beg me.”

“Please.” She whimpered out, her breathing a little erratic from the tears. 

He chuckled roughly against her ear, her hand was open and poised, ready for her wand, she was just about to call out when another figure came around the corner. “And what do we have here?” The new Death Eater came closer. “You know not to play with your food, Master doesn't like it – ”

He was cut off by Ginny's quiet Accio, both of them falling to the ground covered in the nastiest Bat Booey hex she had ever been able to conjure. She wasted no time, running around the corner in the opposite direction, her lungs burning with the effort. She ran as fast as her legs could take her, she was almost to the clearing, she could see it over the rooftop of Waag's, she was so close.

She pushed herself, she was almost there, she could make it. She couldn't hear anything behind her, didn't see any spells being thrown her way, but then again, the edges of her vision were blackened with adrenaline and the rushing in her ears prevented her from really hearing anything besides the throbbing of her blood.

She was going to make it.

She was going to get out of her alive. She would apparate, find her family, any of the closest Order members, she would come back for Neville and Colin and all those kids, they would storm the castle and everything would be alright. She could make it, she was so close.

She turned around the corner of Waag's, the small bakery building looked terrible in the grey of night, none of it's usual twinkle lights on or cakes in the window on display. Ginny wasn't sure why those were the thoughts running through her head as she passed the the little building, but, they were. She could almost smell the pastries that usually infiltrated the building, almost taste the croissants they use to get from there. 

She was so close.

She was going to make it.

All would be okay.

She could see the clearing, the woods thick with trees and heavy with darkness. It was going to be okay, she was going to get to Bill's, she'd apparate straight to Shell Cottage, see if she could get in touch with Fred and George, have them send a message to Neville across the airwaves. She could do it, she had a plan. All would be well, for now. She'd figure the rest out once she was safe and with her family. All that mattered right now was apparating, getting out of Hogsmeade. 

God, she was so close, she could taste it, just a few more sprints. She could do it. She was going to make it.

She didn't even hear him come up behind her. All she felt was the arm go around her waist, the air leave her lungs as she was thrown to the ground and the black creeping up all the way into her vision as her head hit the pavement.

She was so close.

She could make it.

All would be well.


	2. Chapter 2

She came to with her stomach rolling, the vertigo feeling up-ending her stomach and causing motion sickness to set in. Before she even opened her eyes Ginny found herself quickly turning and vomiting on the ground. She could hear voices, but in her haze she was unable to make out what they were saying. She could feel the fingers of someone on her upper arms, bruising in their strength. She was being carried, that much she was certain of.

In an instant sound invaded her ears, everything became distinctly crisp, every word, every clack of a heel against the stone of the floor beneath them, the scrape of her own useless legs. She jerked her head up, her feet going out in front of her to stop them from moving. Her eyes began to focus in on her surroundings, she was being brought through hallways of a beautiful home, Death Eaters on either side of her, behind her, in front of her. 

She was still in her clothes, but she noted her backpack was missing as well as her wand. That much was to be expected, seeing as she was a prisoner of war now. 

They must've just apparated here, which meant she couldn't've been out for more than a few minutes or so, the magic jarring her body awake. She hoped she'd vomited on one of them, just for good measure. 

She had no idea where they were, other than someone's beautiful, stately mansion. If she had been visiting on any other occasion, she may have found it incredible, decedent and lovely. But right now, all she saw was somewhere she needed to escape from. A gilded cage was still a cage, after all.

She knew struggling against the two men that held her would only result in her own pain, she also knew there was no use in fighting right now. They were most definitely taking her to see Tom – she had been able to bag four of his Death Eaters without killing them, she'd say that was pretty impressive to his face, given the chance.

She knew that she should be frightened, and mostly, she was. She was scared. Petrified, really. This was a man who actually literally haunted her dreams for years. She was once again in his grasp. Once again a plaything for the opposing side. It made a shiver run down her spine and gooseflesh raise over her skin. Tom.

She wondered how many other familiar faces she'd see tonight. Probably more than a few.

The doors in front of them opened automatically, the pair of Death Eaters hauling her around not even stopping as the heavy oak doors swung open to reveal even more masked men and women standing in the brightly lit room. The large ballroom they entered was grand and opulent, all cremes and beiges with accents of gold. It dripped money and power, just like the family that owned it. She wasn't sure who they were, but she had no doubt she would recognize them as the horrible supporters they were.

Death Eaters were scattered about the room, forming a half moon shape, like they had been expecting her. Maybe they had. There was a large ornate chair seated by the fire place in the center of the room, it's high winged back made it practically impossible for Ginny to see who sat in it. But, it wasn't hard for her to guess. She knew who it'd be.

Standing to the right beside the chair stood Lucius Malfoy, looking extremely worse for wear. Gone was the arrogant, snide older man that Ginny had the misfortune of meeting in her youth. Instead he was replaced by a haggard looking being, exhausted and defeated. His cool ice blue eyes were blood shot and weighed down by dark circles that told of tortures and sleepless nights. 

Her heart began beating even faster than it ever had. So, this is where she was; the Malfoy Manor. It seemed fitting.

His beautiful wife stood beside him, looking all Ginny had remembered. Stoic, cold, unimaginably beautiful. It was clear that the effects of this war had too graced her, it was less obvious than her husband, who looked like actual shit, but Ginny could still see that haunted look in her cold, downcast eyes. 

Her eyes moved to the man standing on Narcissa's right and it felt like ice water had washed over her at the sight of him. 

She hadn't seen him since prior to Dumbledore's death, almost a year ago. He looked different now, with heavy circles under his hardened eyes, and yet somehow still the same as she remembered. His white-blonde hair was a bit longer than he'd had it the past few years, a bit more reminiscent of a younger him, his skin still oddly pale, his eyes still a raging storm of blue and grey. 

But, it was the fullness of his shoulders, the cut of his jaw, the hallow of his cheekbones, the hardness in his eyes that spoke of how he changed. He was closer to a man now, and it was obvious this war had changed him. Just as it had changed all of them.

She knew that she must've looked different too, this year weighing intensely on her shoulders. She wasn't the scared little eleven year old possessed by a bad man, she wasn't the firecracker that had wafted down the halls of Hogwarts, she wasn't even the empathetic listener she had been last year. No, they had all changed. That much was too obvious.

And yet, Ginny couldn't help but think – where was the crying boy she had tentatively began to befriend last year? And who was this war-hardened stranger in his place?

Ginny thought back to the heavy depression brought on by anxiety that had fell over him last year, it had caused him to react differently than he normally would have, but she knew the man standing in front of her now was changed in a way that was both familiar and frightening. He was different from the Draco she had sat with last year in the sixth floor boys lavatory, listening to him whisper about things neither of them were suppose to know. She wasn't even sure how it had happened, or if it had been real at all, her friendship with the very last person she should have ever befriended, but it had.

She remembered the first day she had found him, she had been running by, taking a shortcut to her Arithmancy class when she'd heard it, the quiet sobbing. She had backtracked quickly, standing outside the door, listening, convinced she had made it up. But, there it had been. She remembered slowly pushing the door open and making her way inside the boys bathroom – she had six brothers, it hadn't even phased her at the time – following that heart breaking sound.

She had found him on the floor with his back pressed up against the stone wall, head in his hands as he cried. That moment would stick with her for the rest of her life, because in that moment, the man had become less of a monster, he had fallen from grace and landed at her feet.

She'd always known who Draco Malfoy was. Whether it be because of his father, or the vendetta her brother and his friends held against him and vise versa, she'd always known. She had always just assumed the worst in him, like everyone else. He was a vile, loathsome, evil little boy, it had always been that way and would continue to be. It was in that moment though, that she realized just how human he actually was.

He had heard her approach and snapped his head up to look at her. Time seemed to stop in that moment, and she had felt actual sadness for him for the first time. She had pitied him at times from afar, knowing his life couldn't be easy, but she had never felt actual sadness for him before. Not like she did in that moment. 

His eyes were liquid steel, brimming with tears that hadn't already trailed down his cheeks, his hair disheveled and sticking up against his forehead. He had just looked so... distraught, she was sure the same look was mirrored in her gaze as she watched him.

He didn't say anything and neither did she, until he glared at her and pushed himself up from the wall, his defenses going up. Gone was the poor, crying boy, in his place stood the angry man he was suppose to be these days. He was tall as he leaned over her in a threatening manner, she hadn't realized how tall he'd gotten. “You won't speak of this to anyone, you understand me.”

She would've felt more threatened if his voice hadn't been so hoarse and if there weren't tears still in his eyes, but she didn't say that. She had only nodded, “Sure, Draco.” Neither of them commented on her weird use of his given name. She was pretty sure she'd never actually said it before in her life.

He had stormed out after that, leaving her with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach and significantly late to class. 

She hadn't come across him like that for a while after the first incident, but she made sure to walk by the sixth floor boys lavatory as often as she could, just in case. She had never been sure why she wanted to catch him again, but, she had so desperately wanted to.

A few months later the chance once again presented itself, only this time she heard another voice accompanying his quiet sobbing. Moaning Myrtle. Ginny had furrowed her brows and checked the deserted hallway before gently pushing into the the bathroom.

“There, there. It's okay, precious boy.” Myrtle cooed gently.

Myrtle had always been a little creepy.

“You... you don't un-understand.” 

She knew that kind of crying, where you couldn't catch your breath and it hurt as much as it felt good. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she moved forward into the room, catching Draco and Myrtle's attention. His head snapped up, his eyes looked almost afraid as they glanced her over in the mirror, before turning angry. He had been leaning against the sink, his arms outstretched against the porcelain, his head bowed.

“What are you doing here.” It hadn't been a question, but a demand to know the truth.

She remembered hesitating, for only a second, before responding. “Are you okay?”

It was clear that was not something he had been expecting. Her question caught him off guard and sent them into a staring match through the mirror before he finally turned around. “Why do you care.” His voice didn't hold much of the malice she was normally use to hearing in it. Maybe that was why she couldn't leave well enough alone.

No, she knew the reason why. The real reason.

She had seen that look in his eyes before; the loss, the pain, the overwhelming anxiety. She'd seen it in her own eyes. She knew what he was going through, not everything, not the specifics, but she knew that look, had felt that feeling. He was talking to Moaning Myrtle for christ's sake. He was doing the same thing she had done First Year when she so mistakenly wrote in that goddamn diary – pouring out his feelings to someone who would actually listen, who wouldn't judge.

It was such an overwhelming notion that she couldn't stop herself from asking him again. She just needed to know that if she left this bathroom, that'd he'd be alright. No one had checked on her, no one had ever asked her if she had been okay. Maybe if they had, the Chamber would've never been reopened, maybe it would've saved from people from a lot of pain.

“Are you, though? Okay?” She moved a bit further into the room, looking at him as though she were afraid he'd off himself right there. With his jittery movements and hard eyes, she wouldn't have put it past him.

“Just fine, Weasley.” He moved towards the exits, as menacingly as he could. “Perfectly fucking fine. Now move out of my way.”

Ginny remembered catching his gaze and nodding before sliding the Pepper Up potion that Madame Pomfrey had given her for her menstrual cramps out of her bag and holding it out to him. “Okay. If you say so.” She had said with a shrug of her shoulders.

He had eyed the potion wearily, those stormy ocean eyes of his narrowed attempting to figure out what she was playing at. Cautiously, curiously, he stared at her in the sixth floor boys bathroom.

She was brought back to reality by the two Death Eaters shoving her onto her own feet and letting go of her arms. The slight look of pain crossed over his otherwise completely stoic face as they looked at once another from across the room. She just knew it had to be because of her, here. Was he worried for her? She knew that she should be worried.

“My Lord.” A voice from beside her called out. The large snake coiled at the foot of the armchair hissed at them from where it sat, a pallid hand came to stroke the top of the snake's head. She felt a shiver involuntarily rack her body. “This girl had taken out four of the Hogsmeade perimeter before we got to her. Apparently she was trying to escape into the woods. Thought to bring her in.”

The pallid hand flicked towards the voice beside her. “That will be all, Roth.”

She felt the presence beside her shrink away, but she was admittedly more focussed on the sound of that voice. It was eerily similar to the once he use to have, so similar that if she closed her eyes, she could see him so easily in her mind's eye. It made her skin prick with gooseflesh, her heart pound harder against her chest.

She had tried so hard, so hard, to suppress every last inch of him in her mind. It had worked, she had gotten good at it – locking him up in the depths of her mind and throwing away the key. And all that hard work, all that pain and labor went undone with five words coming from his horrible mouth.

She hated him.

He stood from the chair with a false sense of grace, the kind that no human should actually possess. But, then again, he wasn't exactly human anymore, was he?

She remembered Harry describing him aloud once after the Triwizard Tournament, he had said he'd watched Voldemort rise from the cauldron, pallid skinned and snake-like. He looked serpentine in nature now, instead of the handsome Prefect he'd been in his youth, with large red eyes and no nose, a tall, imposing figure of pure wickedness. 

She personally had never been able to conjure up that image in her mind. Instead, the very picture of tall, dark and dangerous came to when speaking of him. But, he had lived in her head for a whole year, after all. He had shown her what she'd wanted to see.

There was no denying it now though, he was no longer the picture perfect image of Tom Riddle. He turned from the fire to face her, the exact monstrous replica of the picture Harry had painted three years ago. He stood tall and thin, almost skeletal. His large eyes were oddly not red like Harry had stated and instead remained that dark blue that she remembered from the recesses of her mind. He had no nose, only slits and she was sure his teeth looked just as venomous.

No, he no longer looked like the deadly handsome man from his youth, the one that had charmed her with his words, disarmed her with his smile. But, the very essence of him was still intact and even looking as gruesome and ugly as he did now, she still knew instantly that it was him. Tom.

She wondered if she'd always feel this connection to him, if she was the only one that felt it. He seemed to feel it as well, knowing instantly who she was, even though they had never meet in these bodies, even though she had been a memory of a memory to him. He knew. And she hated it.

He walked calmly from his spot beside the fire, closer to where she stood in the middle of the room, ignoring everyone else that stood stalk still, observing. She didn't look over at Draco, but she could feel his gaze heavily on her. She couldn't look away from those eyes – the only physical thing about him that was still Tom. Besides that voice. She shivered, she would know that voice anywhere.

He stopped a few steps away from his chair and looked upon her, a glistening in his gaze that she was sure no one else could quite catch. 

She hadn't expected to see him again. 

She knew there might've come a time where she'd see him from afar – mostly in the battle that she had always known would happen, the one that was coming. But, to see him stand so powerfully in front of her with that same fucking all knowing look in his eye... 

Well, that she hadn't ever expected. 

He smirked slowly – not in the way Malfoy's mouth had just naturally tended to do when he was younger – but in a slow, mocking, almost-smile that had her itching to hex him. She remembered that smirk, a long time ago it had seemed causal and becoming, but he'd had a different face back then, one that was easy to be wooed by. 

She wasn't entirely afraid of him, he knew that. 

She had seen him in a way that very few people had, open and enchanting. Most of his followers from the First War were dead, she couldn't say about anyone who'd went to school with him, but Ginny was positive no one had seen the things she'd seen when it came to him. 

While he had been controlling her, using her, he had also shown himself to her. It had been so small at first, so accidental that she didn't even think he could pinpoint when he'd been slipping. It had been more intentional later on, she supposed, he needed her to trust him implicitly. 

She had. 

She remembered that she had. 

Sometimes, when she wasn't thinking, she could still feel him. Feel him poking around inside her, overcoming her. It was disturbing, she hated it, but for all her might, she couldn't seem to shake all of him, even after all these years. And to see him stand before her now, in this fake, monstrous body, with those same damn eyes giving her that same damn look… Well, she didn't even know what to feel.

“Ginevra.” 

The way he spoke her name so familiar, it made her both nauseous and angry. She watched as that look of recognition clouded over his gaze, that knowing once again returning to his features. He had been able to read her so easy, but, then again she had been eleven years old, of course she had been so easy. 

“My, my. I hadn't expected to see you so soon.” 

That ice water feeling had returned, dousing her in electric little shocks, keeping her wide awake and aware. And yet, she couldn't help the slight dreamy vibe from creeping up into her conscious. It was all just so surreal. 

“I hadn't expected to see you at all.”

Her voice shook as she spoke, but the fire in her eyes was directed at him. It was clear the others surrounding them hadn't expected her to speak out against the Dark Lord, against Voldemort himself. She guessed most people that were brought before him tried to be brave, but, Ginny couldn't say for sure how well that worked out for them.

He only smirked, those eyes narrowing just slightly as he walked the rest of the way to her. Glided was more accurate, that unnatural grace kicking in. Her heart began beating in overtime as he came closer, but Ginny held her head high and continued staring straight ahead as he began to circle her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction that all his other captures did, she would certainly try her hardest anyway. 

He continued his slow, calculated movements around her. She could feel his gaze all over her, making her feel exposed. She hated him. He knew that.

He stopped back in front of her, too close for comfort, their gaze unwavering. His eyes truly were exactly the same, she wondered if what was left of his soul resided in them, maybe that was why they stayed when everything else changed. 

But, Ginny knew that not to be true. He never had a soul, even before he split it.

He brought a pale had up to her face, brushing his knuckles across her freckled cheek. She had to stop herself from shuddering, keep herself steeled against his smirking mouth. “The things I remember about you.” He whispered, almost intimately – like they had once been lovers.

She said nothing and they continued their stare. She could still feel the gazes of everyone in the ballroom, she knew one of them had to be Draco's. She wondered what he thought of the display, if he felt the same cold, desperate feeling that was swallowing her whole. 

She had told him little of her time with Tom, their few interactions had mostly been about the pressure he was under and how it had literally been killing him. But, he'd managed to get a few things out of her at the time. She wanted, so desperately, to know what was going on in his head right now. It was an easy distraction from the monster in front of her.

Tom's stupid, evil, skin crawling smirk was still in place as his continued to look into her own dark eyes. “And how did Potter's precious little flame get out without Mummy's supervision?” He was still so close, still speaking so intimately soft. She vaguely wondered if he thought it was comforting.

Her eyes narrowed a bit at his derogatory question, but still she said nothing. She knew she was playing with fire, fire she had no hope of controlling, and that sooner rather than later she would get burned. But, she couldn't help herself. She hated him. He knew that. She wasn't going to make this easy on him.

His eyes narrowed just a bit, seemingly understanding that she wasn't going to go down without a fight. He should've expected it, seeing as how he knew her so well. He might've known the eleven year old Ginny, the youngest of seven who always felt left out and alone, but he didn't know this Ginny. The one who'd let that insecure little girl die down in the Chamber of Secrets. The one who fought harder because of it, because of him. He might've thought he knew her, but he didn't. Not anymore.

“Ginevra.” That silky voice drawled out, quietly and slowly. “I'm through playing nice.” He was giving her a warning, something he never did. 

She realized then that maybe there was a part of him that truly was still Tom, that remembered her. A flashing look came over his gaze as she still refused to answer his question, she wouldn't give anything up that she didn't have to. She also knew she was signing her own death wish. A pale had came up to wrap around her throat, so lightly that it was almost as though it wasn't there at all.

He bend her head back, just slightly, and brought his wand up to press against her temple. “I warned you.” He whispered, before she felt herself sucking in a deep breath involuntarily. Her chest rising, her head falling back even further, her legs wobbling, the grip on her throat the only thing keeping her from toppling over. 

Darkness clouded her vision, images moving by so fast she couldn't even distinguish what they were. She felt it, beyond the legilimency, he was trying to unlock that part of himself that he had rooted so deeply in her subconscious. He was trying to control her again. 

Panic seized her as she realized what he was doing, the familiar tendrils of his touch began to snake along the edge of her subconscious. She knew what else he was looking for, he wanted information on the Order, on the Resistance, on Harry himself. For the first time she her brother had left during Bill's wedding, she was glad she knew nothing. 

Because she didn't know shit, and now neither would he.

He stepped back from her, causing her to drop to her knees, shaking. Her breathing was labored, she could barely catch her breath as she planted her hands on the floor, head bowed. She felt tears on her face from the force of his invasion, her cheeks were red and hot from the excursion of trying to keep him out. She couldn't say if it worked or not, judging by his silence it wasn't good. 

She didn't need to look up to know he was staring at her. That they were all staring at her. But, once she began to catch her breath, she did, she looked up. He stood in the same spot, those eyes narrowed down at her, a calculating look crossing his features. 

She began to push herself up when he called out, “Severus.”

Ginny's eyes immediately began searching for her former Professor. He stepped out from her right, coming to stand before the Dark Lord. He was in his usual black robes from school, no Death Eater mask covered his face, no outer robe adorned his frame. She supposed that he didn't need to hide his identity anymore, considering everyone knew what he'd done.

“Yes, My Lord.”

Tom eyed the man carefully before calling out so everyone could hear, “Bring me Mr. Greengrass's daughter. I have a few questions I'd like answered.”

Snape looked over to where Ginny assumed was Daphne's father, standing in ranks amongst the other men and women. He nodded before disapparating to Hogwarts, presumably to gather Daphne Greengrass. 

In truth, Ginny didn't know all that much about the older girl. She'd seen her in the halls or in the Great Hall – usually accompanied by Pansy or any of their friends. But, that was pretty much the extent of her knowledge on the girl. Other than the fact that her family was prominently Pureblood and she was bffs with Pansy, she knew nothing – which made evaluating the situation a bit harder.

Tom walked forward, bending down to where she still knelt. She had meant to stand, but had been caught off guard by Snape's presence. He hadn't even acknowledged her, but, maybe that was for the best. “I warned you, Ginevra.” He whispered, intruding her space. “Now, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

So, maybe he hadn't found what he was looking for within her mind. Maybe she was better at occlumency than she thought. Or, maybe, he just wanted her to punish her, because he was into that sort of thing.

“No.” She looked up at him defiantly, her voice wavering from her still quaking insides. 

He leaned back from her, standing at his full height. Why was there a part of her that just continued to piss him off? Why couldn't she remember how to shut her mouth? She pulled herself up on shaky legs, standing once again in front of him when Snape was back with a crack, accompanied by Daphne Greengrass.

The fair haired girl looked around confusingly at her surroundings, dark eyes falling on the Malfoy's, her father, Ginny, and then Voldemort himself. Ginny watched as Daphne's eyes quickly looked down and away from the imposing figure in front of them.

“Ah, Ms. Greengrass I presume.” Ginny hated just how charming he sounded. How convincingly sweet. He strode over to where Snape and the older girl stood. “I have a few questions I'd like answered.”

Daphne's head was held high, but she didn't meet his gaze. Ginny could see her fidgeting nervously with the bottom of her uniform skirt. “Yes, My Lord.”

Tom smiled eerily, glancing over at where Ginny stood watching the altercation. “Now see here, Ginevra, this is how one speaks to a Lord.”

He was toying with her, with all of them. She hated him.

He turned back towards the pretty blonde, circling her, playing with her. “Tell me, Ms. Greengrass, where has Ms. Weasley been?”

Daphne's eyes skirted over to Ginny's, eyeing her from where she stood across the hall, being circled by the Dark Lord. She was sure that she looked a wreck – red faced, quick breathed, with angry eyes and tears on her cheeks. She looked just as low as they'd all thought she was.

“At Hogwarts.”

It was the truth. But, Ginny wasn't entirely sure why Daphne wasn't spilling about Dumbledore's Army being holed up somewhere in the castle, about her and Neville and Colin fighting back against the Carrows and taking in more and more students. Maybe Tom already knew all of that. Maybe Daphne wasn't as bad as the others. Ginny didn't know.

Tom turned to eye her gently at Daphne's words. It had been the truth, he knew it was the truth, so what else was he looking for?

“When was the last time you saw, Ms. Weasley?”

Daphne's eyes caught her's again, trying to convey a message that Ginny didn't understand. “The beginning of the year.” Tom's eyes pierced straight through Daphne, who kept on speaking. “She's been holed up with some of the other students – mostly Gryffindors.”

Tom turned back to Ginny, that smirk once again in place. “What a little rebel you are, Ginevra.” He took a few strides to her, that falsely light tone mocking her. “Were my teachers not to your liking?”

Her eyes narrowed at him and as much as she told herself to be quiet, she couldn't quiet get herself to listen. “No. They weren't.”

He only smirked at her, not even turning back around when he spoke. “Thank you, Ms. Greengrass. That will be all.” He didn't turn to tell Snape to bring her back, he seemed to be able to get that message all on his own. Ginny's gaze met Snape's briefly, the look was acknowledging, although she was confused as to what. “Well, well, Ginevra. What ever shall I do with you.”

She knew better than to answer that question.

“Maybe when Harry Potter realizes that I have something precious of his...”

He didn't need to finish the sentence, everyone knew what would happen when Harry and her brother found out that she was in Voldemort's clutches. The fight would be brought home a little sooner than they wanted. 

He sharply turned his head to where the Malfoy's stood, Draco stepped forward knowingly. Tom beckoned him forward, Draco coming to stand in front of the Dark Lord, dropping almost automatically into a kneel. “Yes, My Lord.”

“Our dearest, Draco.” He stated, almost mockingly. The sickeningly sweet tone and displacing smile once again marring his otherwise monstrous features. “Let's hope you do a better job this time of making up for the sins of the father, hmm?” He brought a hand down to place on Draco's shoulder, bringing him up to stand, looking intently into the almost matching darkened gaze of the younger man.

Something seemed to pass between them, an unspoken conversation that no one else was privy to. Draco nodded once before turning and walking over to stand beside her. She felt his presence almost immediately, like a light in the distance, an old comfort from home. 

How strange was it that in this moment Draco Malfoy felt like home?

Tom seemed to observe the two of them standing together amongst a sea of black cloaks and pristine white masks. His eyes narrowed just slightly in thought as he gazed upon them. For whatever reason, she felt her stomach drop.

He approached them slowly, taking his time, which only further aggravated her and frightened her just a bit. He truly was the Boogey Man. He invaded her space yet again, smirking in that way she hated, the way that reminded her so much of how stupid she'd been to trust him, how juvenile.

“You're mind now, Ginevra.” He whispered, causing her to go rigid at the words. “Let's hope you enjoy your stay.”


	3. Chapter 3

She felt herself being pulled out of the ballroom, a hand on her upper arm so light that it was barely considered grasping. Her feet were moving of their own accord, her brain just barely categorizing the passing rooms and windows as she had been taught to do – stay constantly vigilant, even when the world was collapsing.

“ _You're mine now, Ginevra.”_

The words kept going around and around in her mind. His voice ringing out harshly in her ears.

“ _Let's just hope you enjoy your stay.”_

Fuck. What had she gotten herself into?

Neville had been right, because Neville was always right and she should just listen to him. This plan had not gone how she thought. This escape had turned into a capture quicker than she had ever imagined. God, she was so stupid. So fucking stupid.

She looked over at the man dragging her to their destination. His stormy eyes tired and yet alight as he continued their brisk pace, his light hair disheveled, his jaw set tight. It was clear he was unhappy, but unless he decided to be uncharacteristically forthcoming, she'd have no idea why.

She truly hadn't thought she'd see him again. Not after the way things had ended last year with Dumbledore's death. She thought the same thing she'd thought about Tom – she'd see him in the heat of battle, from afar. She never thought she'd be in this situation, that much was obvious.

She wondered vaguely if he was happy to see her.

Probably not.

They took a turn and went up another flight of stairs, coming to a hallway painted a soothing navy blue, trimmed in cremes. For some reason, perhaps his presence or the easy silence of the hallway, she felt a little more at ease than she had down in the ballroom. Not relaxed or comfortable, but at ease. He stood in front of a door, opening it and ushering her in.

It was large, painted the same easy color scheme as the hallway. She was still dazed, her hands shaking, but she felt a little more herself as she walked further into the room, instead of the zombie-shell she had been on the walk up here, and he shut the door behind them.

She took the chance to look around where he'd brought her, the large bed was pushed against the far wall, a few dressers and armoires took up space, a bookshelf, a small couch and table in front of the fire place, double doors that seemed to lead out onto a patio and another door that most likely lead to a bathroom. It looked lived in, yet pristine. The open book on the coffee table by the fire, the jacket slung over the back of the couch, the open parchments on the desk, she had a sneaking suspicion of where she was.

“Is this your room?” She croaked out.

When had her voice become hoarse?

“Yes.” He answered simply.

She turned to find him leaning against the closed door, observing her. Gone were the sneers she'd become accustomed to, the narrowed eyes and haughty smirks from childhood. In it's place were observing eyes and a stoic face. Passive, impenetrable, unyielding. The events of last year had changed him and the war had solidified his new self. He wasn't the same Draco Malfoy anymore, that much was certain.

She nodded her head and let out a shaky breath, processing everything.

She was in the Malfoy Manor.

She was prisoner to the Dark Lord.

Tom had plans for her.

Draco was her babysitter.

This was all a little too much for her. She felt her knees begin to buckle and before she or Draco could do anything, she was on the floor. Her palms broke her fall, a staggering breath was caught in her throat and her vision began to spin. She wasn't crying, she wasn't doing anything – apparently she wasn't breathing either because Draco appeared in front of her, catching her gaze and causing her to focus on him. She watched the flecks of his storm colored eyes, all shades of blue and grey swirling in front of her. For whatever reason, the firm grip on her shoulders and the ever changing color of his eyes calmed her, and soon she was breathing regularly again.

“You're having a panic attack.” He muttered, leaning back from her, but not getting up off the floor where he kneeled in front of her. He seemed almost self-conscious about the fact, like he'd had some experience in the area, which, he most likely had. She remembered last year, she wasn't blind.

“Thank you.”

Her voice was hoarse, tired, a little weak. It matched how her insides felt. She was so stupid.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ginny?”

His voice rang out in the silence that had over taken them, pulling her out of her mind and causing her eyes to find his once again. He looked confused and a little angry, mostly he looked exhausted and resigned.

She pulled her knees out from beneath her and sat on the floor indian style, for a moment it almost felt like they were under difference circumstances, but that quickly fled her mind and she once again looked up into those heavy storm-cloud eyes and sighed.

“I was trying to help.” His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her, where she once would've expected a humorless chuckle and bee-sting quips she found only a deep sigh and a shake of his head. She shook her own head. “You don't understand and I don't expect you to.”

His brow furrowed as his eyes narrowed further. “And, what exactly, wouldn't I understand?” His voice was harsh, a cross between angry and upset. He seemed more emotional than he use to be – which was such a contradiction to his completely shut-off expressions and lifeless demeanor.

She wasn't sure if she should tell him, regardless of the fact that she wanted to talk about it, that she wanted _someone_ to know what'd been going on back at school. There was a small, very small, piece of her that stupidly trusted him. It was a residual lingering feeling from last year, it was stupid. She couldn't trust him, he was living with the Dark Lord, he was a Death Eater in training, he had helped kill Dumbledore, he made her brother and Harry and Hermione's life a bit miserable, his father was the worst human being, and yet she couldn't help but feel like he wouldn't hurt her.

What the fuck was wrong with her.

“Are you being nice because of last year, or because this is some part of a sick and twisted way to get me to trust you so _his_ fucking plan will run smoother.”

The clear look he gave her and the slight slump of his shoulders where they should've went up in defense of her blunt accusation already spoke of the answer she was about to get. “The first, and a bit of the second.”

“What is he planning?” She couldn't help but demand, even though she was so tired.

He gave her a look that clearly read that he was disappointed she'd ask such a stupid question. “You know that I can't tell you. Mostly because I don't know anything, but even if I did, I couldn't.”

The deep breath that she let out could've been classified as a sigh, but it held none of the emotion that could accompany one. Her shoulders slumped further, her head dropped and she was looking at her hands. She wanted to cry, she actually _wanted_ to. But, she wouldn't.

“This is so fucked.” She breathed out as she brought her hands up to run over the length of her face, to rub at her tired eyes.

“Yes.” He responded softly, softer than she'd ever thought he could be. “It is.”

That caused her to look up at him once more. He was still kneeling in front of her and she couldn't help but wonder how his knees weren't aching. His skin was more than pale, the palate of blues and purples under his storm-cloud eyes spoke of sleepless nights and nightmares, his face thinner than she remembered. He looked haunted and tortured – he probably was.

“So, what now?”

She couldn't stop herself from asking. Even when her world was breaking, even when she wanted nothing more than to just lay down on the cool floor of his bedroom and cry, she had to ask. She was trained, she was capable, she was a fighter. She would come up with a plan, she would find a way out, she would fight until she couldn't anymore. Because that's who she was. That was who _he_ made her to be.

Draco looked at her with a slightly cocked head and furrowed brows, taking her in through slightly narrowed eyes and a calculating look. “Stop.” Was the only thing he uttered.

“What?” She asked in confusion.

He sighed, adjusting himself to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her. She wouldn't pretend that this all wasn't surreal. That sitting in Draco's room with him casually seated across from her wasn't the oddest thing to happen to her in a long time.

“Stop.” Was all he said again, leaning in slightly to look deeply into her eyes, attempting to convey some message that she wasn't receiving. “Stop whatever plan is trying to form in that little head of yours.”

Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched at the words. “What right do you have to tell me not to?”

He didn't comment on her bristling, he was still calm and even-keel as he looked at her, tired she realized. He was tired. “The experience that you lack.”

She wasn't sure exactly what got her riled up again. Maybe it was his defeatist attitude, or the fact that he was telling her not to try and fight. Maybe it was the fact that he was here at all, sitting across from her like they were friends. Maybe it was all of it.

“I'm not just going to fucking sit here and wait for my execution.” Her hands were clenched into fists and she could feel the heat lighting up her fair skin. There was a fire in her eyes that was reflected in his, the only warmth they seemed capable of was the kind that imitated her own. “There has to be a way. There has to be _something_!”

“And you don't think I've tried it?” The anger sparking in his eyes made him seem more alive, more of the boy she'd come to know and less of the man she'd been presented with upon arrival. The look in his eyes as she barked at her was familiar and slightly comforting – which, was supremely fucked up. “You don't think I've tried everything? You actually think I _want_ to be here?”

That took some of the wind out of her sails.

“What?” She nearly whispered in accusation.

His metal eyes were hard and bright and consuming as he almost sneered down at her. The picture he made glaring across from her was so well known and ordinary that tears began stinging at the corners of her eyes, which was stupid, she knew that.

“I don't _want_ to be here, Ginny.” He ground out. “No one does.”

Ginny thought back to the broken vision of Lucius Malfoy and the cold haunted eyes of Narcissa as she stood beside him.

Did they all feel that way?

Well, certainly not _all_. The Death Eaters that brought her in didn't feel that way. The Carrows definitely didn't feel the same. But, it wasn't hard to imagine the prisoners this beautiful house held, and it still wasn't hard to imagine some of them with pale blonde hair.

She felt the hot air rush out of her like a deflated balloon. Sagging back, she hadn't realized how tense her body had become in anger until she wilted, hands coming up to sink in her messy hair. He still seemed on edge; the brightness in his eyes never fading. A part of her hoped it never would.

He'd just seemed so... _dead_ when she had first looked upon him downstairs. Until his eyes had made contact with her's, she wasn't exactly sure that he wasn't.

She wanted him to keep looking at her with those thunderstorm eyes, all narrowed and tight. It meant he wasn't dead. It meant he could still feel – something she had been afraid he had lost. If it meant keeping him mad at her to see the fever spark in his lifeless eyes, than that's what she would do. Wasn't like she didn't have a lot of practice at it, anyway.

But, it didn't seem like that was something she needed to do. It seemed as though he almost couldn't help coming to life around her.

Whether it was because she represented his childhood, his past, all the things that _didn't_ go bump in the night, or simply because she was familiar and new all at once she could never be sure. But she wouldn't lie and say that it wasn't the most promising thing she'd felt in a long time.

She deflated fully, knowing that she already trusted him – however stupid that made her. She laid back on the cool floor, totally exposing herself to him. Whatever. There were worse ways to go and she was exhausted.

Her legs were still crossed in their criss cross position and her arms laid at her sides as she stared up at his ceiling. “Okay.” She sighed. “Fine. What do we do now?”

He was silent for a few moments, but she didn't have the energy to pick herself up to look at him.

“We wait.”

“For what, exactly?”

He was quiet again, she counted the seconds. “I don't know.”

She nodded and hefted another sigh. She chewed on her lower lip as her brows furrowed in thought. “Why'd he give me to you anyway?” She lifted up on her forearms a bit to assess him. “You know, why didn't he lock me in a dungeon or have an actual Death Eater watch me? Why'd he stick you with babysitting duty?”

His eyes narrowed just slightly as he caught her gaze. “I am an actual Death Eater.”

Well... that she hadn't been expecting.

“What?” She sat up fully, brows furrowed and eyes honed in on his forearm covered by his shirt.

His stormy eyes narrowed at her tone. “You heard me, Ginny. Don't make me repeat myself for dramatic effect.”

“You got the mark?”

She wasn't entirely sure why this was shocking news to her. It was only a matter of time before that happened, right? His father was a right hand to Voldemort, or had been anyway, he had always expressed interest in his family's biding. But, now that the time came for her to confront that, she felt... sort of betrayed. Like he'd somehow lied to her.

“Yes.” He repeated with heat behind his words.

“I just... I just thought after last year, you wouldn't go through with it, you know?”

His eyes seemed to soften just slightly and his shoulders dropped a bit. “I had it last year, Ginny.” He let that sink in with her before continuing. “I already had it when my untimely breakdown was occurring.” He scoffed. “It's _why_ my untimely breakdown happened at all.”

Her heart ached for him. The memory of him sitting on the bathroom floor, broken sobs wracking his body, his eyes in agony. It made more sense now and she honestly should've thought of it sooner. But, as much as they spoke in those moments, they hadn't actually _talked_. They weren't friends. They'd never been friends. But, for those few moments, they had been close and for some odd reason she'd thought that she'd known him.

In reality, she didn't know anything.

“I'm sorry.”

He sneered a bit at the sentiment. It was clear that he didn't want her pity and he absolutely wouldn't accept it. So, she clarified.

“I'm sorry that I didn't realize. It probably would've made the whole thing a lot more clear if I hadn't been so caught up in the moment and actually used my brain.”

His glare lessened slightly and he gave a small shrug of his shoulder – which was so odd on him that she almost laughed, but she didn't. “It's fine, Ginny. How were you to know. I honestly might not've even told you if you'd asked.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes on the floor of his bedroom, not speaking, not even looking at each other. Thoughts filled her head and whirled about in her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about her parents and her brothers, about Ron and Harry and Hermione, she thought about Luna, and Neville and Colin back at school. She thought about a lot.

“But why me?” She hadn't even been aware that she spoke that out loud until Draco's voice rang out around them.

“Because you're important.”

She rolled her eyes in a very well practiced manner. “No. I'm not.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest so that it almost hurt. “I'm not anybody. I'm just Ron's younger sister and Harry's sometimes crush, and one of the captain's of Dumbledore's Army. I'm not anything special, Draco. I just don't understand.”

“You're important, Ginny. And if you think otherwise, you truly don't get what's going on here.” He wiped a hand over his tired eyes. “He's not just going to let anyone get their hands on you.”

“This can't all be because Harry thinks I'm important. Harry doesn't care that much. He thinks he does, but he doesn't. Is this really because of him?” She asked, almost desperately.

“No.” He sighed. “ _Yes_ , you're important because of Potter, but you're also important to _him_. Don't you get that? He's infatuated with you, with whatever those memories of memories or whatever held.” He looked back at her to catch her gaze. “It's him, Ginny. It's not Potter. He just knows that Potter will come looking for you, that you'll draw Harry out prematurely and that's what he wants. But, it's not the only thing he wants. Get it?”

She didn't, but she wasn't about to tell Draco that.

He seemed to recognize that but thankfully didn't mention it. He sighed and moved from his spot on the floor, walking over to the bed and pulling pillows from the top. She watched curiously as he began arranging them on the sofa in front of the fire, pulling a blanket from the armoire and settling himself down on it.

“What are you doing?” She couldn't help but ask, curious as he grabbed the book off of the table in front of him.

“Settling in.” He didn't look at her when he said it, practically ignoring her as she sat on the floor. “You should do the same. I have no idea what tomorrow will hold.”

She stared at him for a moment, mind reeling and yet blank at the same time. She stood, finally, but was unsure of where to go. It was obvious Draco was giving her his bed – a kind act she hadn't expected of him and was still weary to trust wasn't some kind of ruse.

She looked down at her mud covered jeans and dirty top. They took her rucksack and her wand at some point while she'd been unconscious, Tom was probably going through it now, scoffing at her old clothes and pictures of her friends.

Draco seemed to sense her hesitation and looked up from the book in his hand when he realized she hadn't stepped any closer to the bed.

“You can shower and change if you like.”

Her eyes drifted from the wall she'd been blankly staring at while thinking and over to him. The light blonde hair tucked behind his ears and out of his face made him look younger. Made him look his age, she corrected. Because he was seventeen, still a boy and not yet a man no matter all the shit things he might've done. His blue eyes pierced into her casually, without intent or intensity.

“I don't have any clothes.” She managed to get out, not pulling her gaze from his. “They took my bag.”

Draco eyed her for a moment before standing from his make-shift bed and moving towards the armoire yet again. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out clothes and turning back to her. The pants were soft looking and light gray in color, the shirt was blue. He handed them to her and she took them without question.

Neither said anything as she passed him and shut the door behind her. She felt herself shake a little once she was alone.

She moved towards the shower, setting the water to hot and began removing her soiled clothes. It had been a stupid idea, and her clothes spoke of how she failed. She should've listened to Neville, and now he was stuck worrying about her, with good reason.

She was so fucking stupid.

Ginny stepped into the shower, the glass walls steaming up from the warm spray, and for a moment she could pretend like nothing ever happened. But, she knew where she was, why this shower was so nice, who was in the next room, who was lurking downstairs. She couldn't pretend for long. She didn't want to.

She needed to devise a plan. She needed to figure out how to get in touch with the Order, anyone from her family, Harry, Neville...

She needed to figure out what Tom had planned in that disgusting mind of his. What he needed her for, why she was needed at all.

Draco's words rang out in her ears. She wondered if he'd unconsciously picked up on something when Tom had been inside of his head – like Harry did sometimes. Maybe he saw something that he didn't even realize was important.

How could he know that Tom wanted her around? How could he know about the memories of memories and what they meant? Unless he was told these things in an effort to gain her trust, but that seemed unlikely. Tom was personal and Draco had proven himself to be unreliable. No, that was the least likely of the scenarios.

She wasn't exactly sure what was prompting her to trust him, for most of their relationship he'd proven to be nothing more than a egotistic brat with daddy issues. But, after the events of last year, something had changed between them. She was hesitant to let that go even now.

It was stupid and would most likely get her killed, but she trusted him. For now.

She pulled herself from the hot water and fresh smelling soap, wrapping herself in a large towel and staring at her reflection in a fogged mirror. She looked distorted and cloudy – not exactly a false depiction.

Her red hair lank around her shoulders, heavy and dark with water. Her skin looked pallid in the bathroom lighting and her freckles stuck out more than ever. The bruising palate of blues and purples around her eyes spoke of sleepless nights and exhaustion. She was exhausted. They all knew it, too.

She realized then that she looked no better, no worse than Draco himself. She wasn't quite sure what that meant.

She pulled on her borrowed clothes, the soft fabric moving nicely against her skin. They were a little big, but only because Draco was broader than her and taller, but it seemed as though he'd become just as thin.

She tried not to let that bother her.

Ginny left the bathroom and walked back into the room, that for now was her prison, and moved towards that large bed Draco had left for her. He was still seated on the couch, book in hand, fire roaring. The lights were dimmed and the light from the fire casted the room in a soft, warm glow. Under different circumstances she might've found it comforting.

She eyed the door for a moment before busying herself with turning down the blankets and slipping in. There was no way Draco could let her leave this room. In a way, she didn't really want to. What lay beyond was terrifying, at least here she knew what she was dealing with.

The bed was, unsurprisingly, soft and the sheets draped over her wonderfully. It was hands down the nicest bed she'd ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. If any good came out of this whole ordeal, it'd definitely be her sleeping in this bed.

She snorted to herself and ignored Draco as he turned at the offending noise. She just burrowed deeper and closed her eyes.

She was bone tired. Not properly sleeping in months would do that to a person. She knew that now was most definitely not the time to give in and trust a Malfoy to protect her from the night, but she couldn't help herself easily slipping into sleep.

The room was quiet, save the crackling of the fire and the Draco turning the pages of his book. It was warm and soft around her. She couldn't help but give in. Moody would kill her.

Pictures of the Burrow flashed behind her eyes and a pang of sadness pierced her chest. She missed her home and wanted nothing more than to go back there. But, after Death Eaters setting it on fire... she probably never would. She wondered if Draco had been there.

No. He's been locked up here like a maiden stuck in her gilded cage. Maybe she was suppose to rescue him. She dismissed the notion.

The thought reminded her of the time she'd tried to save a stray cat when she was young. It had wandered into the garden with a crooked tail and a chunk of an ear missing and little Ginny had thought nothing of trying to nurse it back to health. Of course, it wasn't long before it drown in the bath she'd been giving it.

The twins had been the first to tell her. She had been younger than the cat incident, Charlie had just finished sorting a bin of buttons for their father when Ginny walked by and knocked them over. Fred had pulled her away from an irate Charlie and proceeded to tell her about the Weasley Curse.

Ginny had just rolled her eyes at the twins. A curse? Really? Like she was going to believe that.

But, then the cat incident happened and Ron was with them, shaking their heads and reiterating the old story they'd told her before.

MaKenna Weasley was the reason the curse existed at all. Story goes she'd pissed off an ancient Druid enough that it cursed her family. Allegedly MaKenna had fallen in love with the Druid's human lover and produced an heir, a baby girl named Aoife. The Druid was so angry, she stole the baby and cursed MaKenna to never have another child.

The folklore amongst their family was that the Druid didn't curse MaKenna barren, but made sure she'd never have another daughter. Supposedly the whole Weasley line was cursed to the no daughters rule, according to her brothers.

Ginny had rolled her eyes. She was a girl and she had been born, so obviously the curse wasn't true. But the twins had just shrugged all skeptical and said that there was only a daughter born every couple generations and that usually she was the one who was cursed with bad luck for the rest of her life.

She'd never believed it and held a sort of hatred for her brothers after that. How dare they tell her she was cursed?

But now... she wasn't quite sure what to believe.

Maybe they'd been right all along. Maybe their ancestors had pissed off some ancient druid and cursed them.

She _was_ the first Weasley girl in five generations. And, the more she thought about it, she had been exceedingly unlucky thus far in her life.

It wasn't just the buttons or the cat or meeting Harry in her pajamas. It was the Chamber, it was Tom, it was falling in love with someone like Harry Potter, it was her family home being burned to the ground, it was being stuck in a hidden room in the school, it was being captured and brought here, it was the Weasley name itself.

Maybe this _was_ all because of some stupid fake curse that she was almost positive Fred and George had made up specifically for her. Because so many bad things have happened in her life, so many people have died, how could this possibly just be fate?

But, then she thought of Draco reading by the fire.

What was his curse?

She fell asleep thinking about the fake curse that she only sometimes believed in and how it could apply to the blonde boy sitting not far from her. Perhaps his life has sucked so terribly thus far because of her, because of MaKenna Wealsey and the ancient Druid that had cursed her.

She couldn't say for certain, one way or the other. Maybe it was real. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, they were fucked.

 

**Author's Note:**

> TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS.


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